A Long Night
by plecostomus-of-justice
Summary: Michael is alone, again. He relives his past, the story of his capture, then finds redemption at the hands of another mild MxR My first anime fanfic
1. Prologue

Prologue

Karasuma gazed at Michael, sat before the bank of computer screens, headphones on, engrossed in his work. Not really a young man, she thought, instead stuck in an in-between phase, no more a boy, but yet to grow into manhood. He was gangly, and painfully thin, at the age where he could eat any amount of anything and not put on weight. He looked like a normal youth, listening to his music, playing on his computer. It was only when you looked closer, she thought, that you realised that there was something not normal about him. His jumper was too big for him, and slightly moth-eaten, his skin tinged with pallor unusual for even a boy of that age. She sighed. It was hard not to feel pity for him, trapped in the old, warren-like building that was STN-J's office. Still, she shook her head to clear her thoughts, he chose the path he now followed, he had chosen to live this way, though, admittedly, his choices had been limited. Standing, she called "Goodnight, I'm off now". The small figure removed a headphone and replied "see you later," then returned straight away to his typing.


	2. Alone

Alone

Looking up a few hours later, Michael sighed. He was alone now. The moon had risen outside and there was silence save for the gentle whirring of his computer. He leaned back on his chair, looking around at the deserted office. These nights were the worst. Once, he had lived for the night time, spending all night dancing through the Internet, accessing people, places, information, walking freely. Now, nights were when he was alone, completely alone. He could no longer escape to the Net, it was a twisted pleasure, swimming through information as he had always done, but this time, with his gift bound to serve another. Unable to choose where he moved, instead he was constantly searching for information to aid the Hunt, their slave, in real life and in the cyber world. He enjoyed the work for the most part, but that did not change the frustration of losing his freedom within the only place which had ever provided him with acceptance and power, the Net.

He looked at the large pile of work in front of him, requests from the STN-J team for information, details, searches, etc. Tonight, though, he had no motivation to complete any of it. He burned with a deeper frustration, and, turning to his computer, he opened not the STN-J search pages he had created, but a normal Net search engine. Typing with his usual confidence, he entered several names into the search box. Then, he paused, his finger hovering over the "enter" key. The name inside the box was that of a school, his old school. Sighing, he hit enter, and then clicked the first available link. Within a fraction of a second, STN-J's high speed Internet link had obtained the pages, and they were sat on the large screen in front of him. "Welcome to Central High School" read the banner across the top of the page, below it, photos and links to brightly coloured pages. He ignored the words, but examined the pictures closely.

A twisted, ironic smile came to his lips. He had never really enjoyed high school, he had always been the smart, gawky kid who sat at the back, seemingly ignoring everything but still obtaining full marks on tests. He had been desperate to leave, to take advantage of the world promised by the Internet, sick of jumping through hoops set up by other people, people who feared his intelligence and who tried to crush him. Now, in a twist of fate, he was looking through the pages of his school's website as a comfort. It was full of pictures of people he had once known, it would have been his graduation this year had fate not intervened, and the pictures of his ex-classmates, beaming with delight as they stood in the courtyard of the school, bathed in warm summer sunshine, filled him with a jealousy that made him gasp. He wondered if any of them remembered the boy who was missing, who had simply not arrived for school one Monday morning. Did Noriko remember the quiet boy who had sat gazing at her, looking away whenever she turned to glance at him? The boy who did her homework for her, and was rewarded by hurtful comments and nasty, bitchy giggling about his Western name and appearance?

He doubted it. He had discovered early on in his "career" at STN-J that all traces of his previous life had been erased by the "system." There had been a picture of him on this website, once. Standing with his class, on their first day of high school, dressed it that horrible militaristic uniform, scowling, even then, with reluctance, hiding at the back where he was barely visible. That picture was still there, brought to prominence on the site now, as his classmates graduated. He was missing from it, however. Though he had tried to hide from the picture at the time, he had always been visible on it, a head poking through. Now that face was gone, and there was no trace it had ever been there, someone had done a great job on the image. Immediately after his capture, he had done some looking, finding out what had happened to him in "the real world", holding on to the hope that someone would come looking for him, though it was unlikely. He remembered that horrible, horrible feeling when he had read the police reports which had described how he had died resisting arrest, throwing himself in front of traffic. There had been a body and everything. His parents had been told that he had been working for a drug trafficking gang, his school had been so terrified at the mention of drugs that they had complied straight away with the request to forward his records and delete all record of his existence. There was little record anywhere of the boy who had been born a month after his parents had moved to Japan.

He sat, looking at the pictures for a long time, trying to organise the tangle of emotions within him. He felt like a thirsty man in the middle of the ocean, compelled to drink seawater in a desperate attempt to quench his thirst, but feeling the burning salt with each mouthful, slowly poisoning him. He knew they would not be looking for him. He had always been forced into keeping a distance from his classmates, both by his strange name and appearance, and by his parents' fighting and arguing. His mother had cried any time he spoke Japanese at home, and made constant comments about how she was losing him to "them," to this alien culture she had been forced to move into by her husband's job. He was unable to bring friends home, isolated from their social activities and struggled to make friends and socialise. His father, out of guilt, had brought him the computer at the age of seven, and he had learned fast, building his own at the age of ten, learning ways through the internet, helped by the fact he was bilingual. He remembered nights spent playing Counter Strike with his clan, feeling accepted for his skill. He missed those days, there was no gaming allowed here, nothing to break the monotony of searching, typing, working, then remembering, hurting and sleeping.

Shaking his head, he pushed away from the desk, escaping the pictures on the screen. Aware suddenly of how cold he was, he stood up, getting the blood back into his arms and legs. The full moon stared down at him from the other side of the glass window, mocking him or comforting him, he could not tell. He remembered staring at the moon in another place, at another time, when he was no longer able to concentrate on his computer at home, when the volume switch on his headphones would go no higher, he would stand by his window, gazing at the moon, listening to the sound of his parents screaming abuse at each other in the living room below. At least here it was silent, he had craved silence for so long before, but, he thought, smiling wryly, after two years of night time silence, it would be good to have noise again, to walk through the streets listening to the hubbub of life around him. He shook his head again, that was unlikely now. He knew too much for STN to ever let him go.


	3. Arrival

Arrival

He was so lost in his reverie that he did not hear the footsteps, but then, Robin always glided across the floor almost soundlessly, anyway. The first thing he knew was when she spoke "I brought you doughnuts, I'll make some coffee if you like?" He jumped at the sudden noise, but then smiled at the familiar words as he turned to greet the Witch Hunter. For the first time that evening, the smile was not twisted, but genuine. It changed the entire shape of his face, thought Robin, lighting it up and making you forget the moth-eaten baggy clothes he wore, or the untidy hair in need of a haircut. Even the unhealthy pallor of his face was lessened by the smile. It was only looking into his eye that Robin saw the sadness that was so deep it made her want to cry. That sadness was always there, even during his triumphant moments. Even when he was engrossed in his computer, he always carried an air of quiet desperation, he never seemed to feel true happiness, only fleeting satisfaction.

But he smiled, at her, nonetheless. She put the doughnuts down and walked to the coffee machine. Walking past his terminal, she could not help but notice the website and the pictures, but she tried to ignore them. She returned with the coffee, in two big mugs, and placed it on his desk. He looked at her, and Robin, picking up on the unspoken question, answered "Touko's away tonight, and the flat is empty. I thought I'd come here, look at some cases." Michael fought to hide his disappointment. He longed for one of them to come to Ravens Flat at night to see him, to talk to him and share his world. Instead, they would come and demand information and answers, treating him like a human search machine. They were frightened of him., he had realised early on, frightened of what he represented, the power of the organisation over one person, enough to compel them to remain inside one building indefinitely, to abandon their whole world. His presence also reminded them of their own restrictions, not as physical as his own confinement, but equally as binding.

Robin looked at him. She had caught the flash of emotion, but had been unable to identify it. She hoped that he was not angry with her for coming. To be honest, she had come to Ravens Flat because of her own loneliness, an alien emotion to her. In the convent, there was not time for such feelings, an endless routine of prayer, chores, lessons and the sleep of exhaustion suppressed any emotions. But in Touko's flat, the chores were done, and Robin, unaccustomed to idleness, had been at a loss. Really, she wanted some company, to talk to someone who was not wary of her, as Amon and the other Hunters were. She had always been aware of the way people felt about Craft, but before, surrounded by others who used it, it had not mattered. Here, her Craft meant she was not trusted. She represented the enemy in some way, and was unsure as to whether she would ever be trusted by the team. Michael had been the only one who had accepted her without fear, and had trusted her, and she valued his trust and craved friendship.

They looked at each other in silence for a moment, their eyes met, and they saw within each other, a mirror of their own feelings. Then they hurriedly glanced away, embarrassed by their exposed weaknesses. "How was your day then?" asked Michael, searching desperately for something to say to break the uncomfortable silence. Robin smiled tiredly. "A dead body and a mountain of work. Average, I suppose. You?" "Yeah, same, but without the dead body." Michel replied. The conversation continued this way for a while, stilted and shallow. There was a sense that they both wanted to say more, but neither knew how, so they continued with this unsatisfying conversation, before Michael said. "You know, we both sit in these chairs all day. Why don't we go down to the atrium and sit by the arch, where we can see the sky? We could take the coffee and food, have a small picnic?" Robin smiled "I'd like that" she replied, and they both headed downstairs, sitting together in companionable silence leaning against the well, munching doughnuts and coffee.


	4. Rain

Rain

Suddenly, a loud bang made them both jump. It was followed by the beating of raindrops on the roof, and they realised that it was just thunder. Looking at each other, they laughed, their embarrassment wiped away when they realised that both had been surprised by the sudden noise. Michael gazed towards upwards and watched the rain striking the glass ceiling. Quietly, he mumbled "I miss the rain." Robin looked up at the sound of his voice. "I never thought I would miss something so simple. I hated the rain before, everyone does, don't they? The normal people. But now, now I want more than anything else to feel the rain on my face again." He fell silent, embarrassed again at his revelation. Robin nodded. "I know, at the convent, I wanted to go out in the rain sometimes. To let it hit my face. To be free of all those restrictions. To wash it all away" Michael looked at her more closely, he had failed to realise how close her life had been to his own in some ways. Her face had a far away look, maybe she was thinking something similar.

They fell back into silence, watching the rain. "You know, when they came for me, it was raining" Michael blurted out suddenly. It was the last of outdoors I ever felt," He seldom talked about his capture, it was a taboo subject for most of the witch hunters, Amon especially. They all kept the illusion of co-workers maintained as best they could, but, Robin sensed, tonight was a night Michael needed to talk.

"I always knew it could happen if I carried on hacking, that one day I would hear that knock on the door, and that would be that. I just never thought it would be so soon, or like this. I mean, you hear stories, they float on the net, of people who disappeared, of people taken in the night. But, you carry on anyway. The knowledge is more important, the information outweighs the risk. I could find out anything, I felt like I was invincible. And, I used it badly sometimes, I hacked into my teacher's personal files after she reported me for abnormal behaviour, found out about her debts, her trouble with the police. I never told her, or anyone, but the knowledge gave me a power over her. That night, I was after something else, a bigger rush, I think, that was all. I don't even know quite how I ended up hacking STN-J, I certainly hadn't prepared for it. It was huge though, and so tempting, it took so long to persuade it to yield that I had to keep trying. And once I was in, there was the huge database, with all this information at my fingertips. It was the ultimate high, really.

Once I was in, I realised, the database was huge, and mentioned things I'd never heard of before. Witches, Hunts, these things were just rumours, though the sensible part of my brain was screaming at me to get out, that I would see something I really didn't want to if I carried on. But I couldn't stop. The more I read, the more I realised it was real, the rumours were true. I made a serious mistake, though. I stayed too long, the database was compelling, it still is for me. I thought, too late, that it was time I left, that I had been too long. I tried to quit, but the network would not let me out. I should have pulled the power cable, I should have turned the box off, but I didn't. I tried to escape, tried to delete any trace of me. I knew that it was over when they terminated my connection. I knew right that second that I was out of time, that they had traced me, that they were coming for me.

I kind of went mad; I got up, and started to throw any incriminating bits of paper, or CD's out of my window. I tried to format my computer, but I was shaking so much I kept making mistakes and it refused to format. The knock at the door came about three minutes after the connection was terminated. I heard my father talking on the intercom, then about a minute later, there was a knock at my door. In they came, smashing down my door as they did so. Six men with faces covered, three men in suits. I stood up, the men with covered faces aimed their guns at me, I froze. One of the suited men said "he's human," in a surprised voice, then the others stepped forward. They grabbed me and handcuffed me, they attached shackles to my legs as well. Another man grabbed my computer. I was half led, half dragged out. All I could hear where my parents shouting at each other, already blaming each other for my arrest. They didn't even look at me as I went; they were too engrossed in their argument. As soon as we were outside, I was pushed towards a car. Two black vans were parked behind it, one with a team of people dressed all in white, holding a steel coffin shaped box. I was, for the first time, truly terrified. I have not known fear like that before or since. My legs turned to jelly, and I collapsed into the arms of the suited man who was escorting me. But, instead of being bundled towards the coffin, I was pushed inside a car. It had blacked out windows, and I couldn't see where we were going. I had rain on my glasses too, and with the handcuffs, I couldn't wipe it off. I was blinded and frightened.

Eventually the car stopped in an underground parking lot. They took me up in the lift, to the second floor. I was dragged down a long corridor, into an office with a man behind a desk, Zaizen. He looked at a screen, then at me, and said "Michael." I don't know what I was feeling then. I had heard of people being dragged in by the police, but I really sensed that these people were not the police at all, and were something else. Every part of my body was telling me to be afraid, to run. Where could I run to? The man continued "I'm impressed, very few have ever got to the final stage of our security program, and you are the first human to get that far. Granted, there aren't many foolish enough to try, but your skill is certainly obvious to me. But, this doesn't change the facts. You are now in possession of information we would have rather kept to ourselves. So, where does that leave us, and where does that leave you?"

I knew what was coming now. Now was when they would do something to me. I had always thought that if the police had ever got me, it would be OK. I was too young to be sentenced, I would receive a light penalty. These were not the police, and I was in a lot of trouble." Michael looked round the atrium and nodded, "oh yeah, a whole lot of trouble! Zaizen turned to me and said "it would be a shame to lose that talent you clearly have. And at such a young age. I don't do this job to kill children, I don't do this job to kill anybody unless it is entirely unavoidable. So, what we'll do is give you a choice. You can stay here, become our computer expert, we clearly need a new one. You will work as part of the team, and have access to some of the latest technology, stuff which makes your home PC look like a 486." I remember wincing slightly, even then. My computer was the only thing I was really proud of, and had spent lots of money on, and here was this suit insulting it. Silly really. Then Zaizen continued, with a statement that made all thoughts of my computer fly out my mind. "There will be two provisos, however. You will follow the orders of the chain of command here at STN-J, and you will not leave the building for any reason without my personal approval. Of course, if you feel you cannot tolerate those rules, there is another alternative." Zaizen glanced down at his desk, and I followed his gaze. There was a large syringe on the desk, shining evilly in the light coming from his computer screen. "If you do not want to come and work for us, I will have no other choice. You will never wake up. Do you understand?" I may have been young, but I wasn't stupid. I realised straight away what he was saying.

I took a deep breath in and said "I'll stay." Nothing more than that. Nothing more needed to be said. He nodded, and, grunting, rose from the desk, picking something up as he walked round towards me. I flinched away as much as I could with all the restraints and shackles. He looked at me. "This is simply a collar" he said, calmly. "A reminder, if you will, of your choice. The tag gives your name, your code, your status. If you ever try to escape, I guarantee you will not get beyond the front gate, and your death will not be as simple as an injection and darkness. The collar will serve as a reminder of that, in more ways than one and it cannot be removed." As he said this, he stood behind me and put the chain around my neck, loose enough so as not to constrict, but tight enough that it would not go over my head. He used something resembling a soldering iron to seal it shut, and that was that. I was now his slave.

I suppose you're wondering why I chose that option?" Michael looked at Robin, who was looking slightly shocked as the story unfolded. "That this isn't really a life, confined in here, forever. That it would have been quicker and ultimately less painful to have taken the needle. But I was fourteen. I wasn't ready to die there. I still am not ready to die. If I was, I could, easily. Climb up there" he waved at a pillar stretching up to the roof, "and just let go. Fly before the darkness hit. Or run outside into the sunshine, one last time. But I'm not ready for that. I still have something to offer, and something to carry on for here. Knowing that the option is there makes it so much easier though." He smiled, a wan smile. "This is all a bit depressing really. I don't think I've ever told anyone about that night before. I've certainly never told anyone about the pillar. The others wouldn't understand, wouldn't want to know. I don't know why you're different, why I felt like I could tell you. Why I could trust you?"

"Maybe because we have something in common" replied Robin, quietly. "Maybe because I know, I can understand, just a bit, what your life is like here. It is different if you have never known freedom, though. I have lived in the convent my whole life, since my mother died giving birth to me. They knew what I was there, in the convent, and they taught me from a young age that the only choice for me was to become a Hunter, or else I would become the Hunted. The Craft grants a person very little choice, it rules every part of your life, always there, always bubbling. I have never had a choice, not really. If I were to run, they would hunt me down just as efficiently as they would get you." Michael was quiet, he had never really realised how similar his and Robin's lives were. He felt a closeness to her he had never felt before. Partly sexual, if he was honest with himself, he fancied her to bits, she appealed to him in a way that Doujima, with her snide comments and nastiness never could. But it was deeper than that, he felt comfortable with her, relaxed, in a way he could not feel with the others. Robin calmed his inner demons, silenced the voices which laughed at his predicament. He looked at her for a long time, before he noticed her shiver. He realised that he was pretty cold as well. "Do you want to come to my room," he asked, summoning all his courage. "It's a bit warmer, at least, than the office, and it's certainly warmer than down here." "OK", Robin replied, and they both stood.


	5. Bed

Bed

Michael led her up to the third floor, mostly occupied by files and documents. He walked through a maze of files, before opening a door into a smallish room, clearly once a storeroom. It had a camp bed, with a blanket dumped untidily on it. The walls were painted the same dingy colour as the rest of Ravens Flat, but there were a couple of faded posters on the walls. Michael shrugged "Sakaki gave them to me, not really my taste, but better than nothing." A crinkled copy of the Hackers Manifesto was also stuck to the wall, "I printed that out upstairs, smuggled it down here. No one ever comes in here except me, and I often don't bother and just sleep under my desk, so I could get away with it" he explained. His explanation was a bit lost on Robin, however, who did not have a good grasp of English, and could understand very little of the text aside from the word "Hacker". There were a couple of books on a rickety table by the bed, one of them was a heavily thumbed trashy romance novel. Michael caught Robin looking at it "Doujima left it, I had screen burn. Needed something to do that wasn't the computer. What can I say?" Robin smiled, she doubted that was completely true, looking at the abuse the book had suffered. Michael was right, it was physically warmer in here, but the room itself felt so cold. It was more like a cell than a room, thought Robin. Even her room at Touko's, which was very much Touko's spare room rather than Robin's room, was more welcoming than this.

Michael had dodged behind her and grabbed his sleeping t shirt, moving it away from her, it hadn't been washed in a good few weeks. It was actually the t shirt he had been wearing when he had been captured, after two years it wasn't fit for anything other than sleeping in, even for a guy with a very limited wardrobe. He gestured for her to sit on the bed, then sat next to her, leaving a respectable distance. "What's wrong?" he asked, noticing Robin's face. "I'm sorry," she replied, embarrassed. "It's just….this room feel so sad. So confining, not like the convent rooms, which were simple, but somehow beautiful." Michael nodded. "I know, but it doesn't matter so much. I just sleep here, it's a place to crash, nothing else. I don't go in for interior decorating" he smiled. "I just stay on the Net as long as I can, I can get so lost in my work, in tracking down the bad guys and finding information that I forget about all this. By the time I come here, I'm always too tired to see properly, let alone think about it. I don't like being here when I'm not exhausted, it makes it all feel so real." Robin could see the sadness returning, and quickly changed the subject.

"What's it like on the Net?" asked Robin suddenly. "Depends," replied Michael, after a long, thoughtful silence. "Sometimes it's like going through a maze with a blindfold on, hitting dead end after dead end, sometimes hitting them hard. Sometimes, it's like digging a hole, or moving snow. You shovel away at all the rubbish to get to the real information. But when you are on a Hunt and I watch you over the Net, I can walk alongside you, I can see everything, know each of your positions and status, know what you are doing in relation to the suspect. I can almost see the action. I can fly above the city, I can guide you, protect you as best I can. I know I don't have the skill to be a Hunter. I would never have the skill to help you fight in the real world, but, in the Net, I can. I guess," and he blushed again "you lot are the closest thing to family I have now, I have ever had, really and it feels good to be able to protect you. That's probably the only reason I stay." "I feel better knowing you are there" replied Robin "you of all of them would not let me down." Michael looked down and blinked rapidly a couple of times. This was one of the first times in his life that he was actually being acknowledged as a person. Robin seemed to intuitively know what to say to him to make him smile, even her presence lit up each day, breaking the monotony of his life.

He pushed those feelings down deep inside. They had no place in his life, that was another thing that had been made clear after his "collaring." He sighed, her and him, it was his favourite fantasy, but it was not a purely sexual one, though it was just as satisfying, something he'd thought impossible until now. He turned to her, not knowing what to say next, but she was not sitting there any more. Robin was curled up, catlike, on his bed, fast asleep. He looked at his small, battered old alarm clock, 530AM. Work in 3 hours! No wonder she was asleep, he had no idea they'd talked for so long. He thought about getting sleep himself, and tiptoed out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him. Up on the fifth floor, he retrieved his other blanket from its cupboard and curled up under his desk, feeling at peace with the world. He reached up, and turned off his computer, banishing the picture of his old classmates from the screen, realising that an old chapter was over, and something new was beginning.. Robin was going to change his life, he sensed. She had that presence about her. With that thought in his mind, Michael drifted off to sleep, and dreamt about freedom and sunlight, the first time for months his dreams had not been black and twisted.

He awoke, as he usually did, an hour before the others were due. For some reason he would always wake at this time, it was as though his body knew. He stretched and moved towards the shower. Suddenly he jolted, "Robin," he thought. Had last night been a dream, was she really here? He ran down the stairs, taking them 3 at a time, until he got to his door. Knocking brought no response, so he gently pushed it open. She was still asleep on his bed. He paused, then closed the door and went back to the kitchen area upstairs. "Coffee" he thought, would be good and would be what she would want. He had never had someone stay over in his room before, ever. Especially not a girl like Robin. He was in a state of mild panic, trying to make things perfect in the kitchen, trying to get her to be pleased with him.

Downstairs, Robin stirred, but did not awaken fully. She had woken up after Michael had left last night, and had spent a good time in the dawn light thinking. She liked Michael, he accepted her and made her feel safe. He did not fear her, though he was a human, and he treated her with respect, always. She was unused to men, though, and couldn't help but feel wary. The priests who would come to the convent were always overbearing, strict and harsh. Father Juliano, the man who had raised her, had always been a distant figure. When she was old enough, she had lived in the convent with the nuns, exposed to their female world, where men were a peripheral irritation. She had no idea how to relate to men, how to deal with the flood of feelings which emerged when she looked at Amon, and the very different feelings which came up when she looked at Michael. She was confused, men had never confused her before, they were always to be looked up to and obeyed to their faces, but complained about behind their backs. She did not know what to do, and had fallen into a troubled sleep still thinking about it.


	6. Rainbows

Rainbows

Michael gently pushed open the door and brought in the coffee. Robin was still wearing her clothes from the night before. She awoke as she heard the door and quietly Michael said "it's only me, I've brought you some coffee." She rolled over and opened her eyes. "It's beautiful" she said, and Michael looked up, surprised, wondering what she was talking about. The rain had cleared the clouds from around Ravens Flat, and the sun beamed through his window. Doujima had broken a bracelet a few months ago, and he, being like most hackers, a scavenger in real life as well, had gathered up the crystal beads and had hung them from the window of his room for a little more decoration. Now, they caught the sunlight and cast rainbows across the room. "Rainbows," Robin whispered. "Rainbows" replied Michael his voice mirroring the awe in hers. Then, with more determination and strength in his voice, he whispered, "rainbows for our freedom." Robin nodded. It was all she needed to do. Michael felt a sudden pricking on the back of his eyes. He blushed fiercely, trying to stop the tears he felt rising. He cried alone at night in Ravens Flat sometimes, harsh, bitter sobs which threatened to suffocate him, which bypassed throat and his reasonable brain, until he would lie, exhausted and drained on the floor, chest burning, unsatisfied and unacknowledged. He did not want to humiliate himself this way in front of Robin, by losing control.

Robin felt a surge of emotion rising within her as she saw his eyes glistening, an emotion that was completely alien to her, a powerful nurturing feeling. She reached over to him, drawn by the instinct, and took him in her arms, holding him tightly. He shuddered for a second in her arms, like a wounded bird, then buried his head into her shoulder and cried. He cried and cried, but not the bitter tears he was used to. He felt permitted to cry, supported and nourished by her touch, and the tears did not hurt him, but washed him clean. She held him there, whispering into his ear, wordless sounds of comfort that a mother would whisper to a child, sounds that all women seem to learn as they go through puberty. Though she was younger, she held him like a child, until she felt him stop shaking and calm. Gently easing his face away from her chest, she produced a tissue and wiped his tears, very gently. He fell back into her embrace, calmer as she held him again. When he moved away he looked straight at her. "Rainbows," he whispered, looking more peaceful and serene than Robin had ever seen him. Her heart was gladdened by his face and she amazed herself by kissing his cheek lightly before rising to prepare herself for work. His smile widened as he did the same, he felt more at peace than he ever had, even in his days before incarceration. Her touch was like a light shining in the darkness for him, and he suddenly realised that he had been given yet another reason to tolerate the collar and not to run. He silently thanked Robin for this precious gift.


	7. Hope

Hope

By the time the others arrived, they were both sitting at their respective desks, Michael typing away, Robin reading out loud as was her habit. The others had no idea what had happened the night before. Karasuma still gave a slightly pitying glance at Michael as she put some breakfast food on his desk, Sakaki said hi as usual, Amon ignored everyone. Everything seemed exactly the same as the day before.

None of the others noticed the pictures of a rainbow tucked away on Robin and Michael's desks, or the quiet smiles on their lips.


End file.
